


Arches

by doctorkaitlyn



Series: tumblr fics & ficlets, part ii. [31]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Future Fic, Massage, Non-Explicit Sex, Oral Sex, Professor Lydia Martin, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-05-05 22:11:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14628075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorkaitlyn/pseuds/doctorkaitlyn
Summary: “You look like you have an idea.”Malia shrugs and curls her fingers into the hem of Lydia’s pencil skirt. “Maybe. Will you have enough time to get ready again?”Lydia laughs and slides her legs apart as far as the restrictive fabric of her skirt will permit. “I think you greatly underestimate how good you are at certain things.”





	Arches

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aweekofsaturdays](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aweekofsaturdays/gifts).



> this was written for the prompt "Collarbone kiss + Inner thigh kiss + any combination of Malia/Kira/Lydia, all or just two, and maybe in a hotel?" I also combined it with the prompt "one person meticulously doing something entirely for the other’s benefit without expectation or need of reciprocation" from [this](http://banshee-cheekbones.tumblr.com/post/170288406393/tickatocka-some-fun-sex-tropes-laughing-during) list, which I am slowly making my way through.

By the time the absurdly slow elevator finally comes to a stop on the tenth floor of the hotel, Lydia is seriously thinking about simply yanking off her heels and going barefoot for the rest of the day, professionalism be damned.

The shoes weren’t cheap, nor were the gel insoles she slipped inside them earlier in the day, but being on her feet for seven hours straight has apparently won out over price. As the elevator creaks open, she curls her toes tightly in an attempt to work through some of the tension and ache that’s set into her arches.

Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t do much to help.

Their room is three doors down the hall, and she pulls her key card out as she walks, heels sinking an inch into the neutrally patterned carpet. Once the door unlocks with a click, she pushes it open, and she’s out of her shoes before the door settles back against the frame. She sighs contently as her feet sink into the thick carpet.

She has to put her shoes back in two hours, when it’s time for her to return to the hotel’s conference room and present her latest research findings to a room full of people who are nominally her colleagues, but she’s going to enjoy every minute that she doesn’t have them on.

The curtains covering the balcony doors have been pulled aside, bathing the room in crystal-clear, late afternoon sunlight, and there’s a gentle breeze stirring the sheets hanging over the edge of the bed. Malia is stretched out sideways on the mattress, one arm cushioned under her head, the other dangling freely over the edge. There’s three towels underneath her, keeping the bed dry. She’s in her swimsuit, long tanned legs protruding from gaudily colored board shorts, the ties of her halter top a little crooked, and Lydia can smell the chlorine on her. Surprisingly, it’s a comforting smell, particularly when contrasted against the too-strong coffee and permanent markers she’s spent most of the day wrinkling her nose against.

“You look comfortable,” she says, confirming that the mattress is dry before she sits down on the edge. Malia hums in agreement and slowly blinks her eyes open, pushes a few strands of honey-blonde hair, crunchy from the chlorine, away from her face.

“I was gonna nap by the pool, but there were too many kids there.” Her nose wrinkles up, and Lydia laughs a little as she reaches out to absently run her fingers along Malia’s stomach. Malia hums again and reaches down to tangle their fingers together. “How’s the conference going?”

“Exactly as I expected. There’s some great research happening, but most of it is getting ignored in favor of the flashy stuff. Style over substance. Also, my feet really hurt, and I have to present in two hours.”

Malia raises an eyebrow and sits up. One of the towels remains stuck to her back and leaves creases behind in her skin when she swats it to the floor. “Want a massage?” 

“Honestly, that sounds amazing,” Lydia replies. She almost flops back onto the mattress, but she catches herself on her elbows before her back can hit the damp towels. Malia slides off the edge of the bed and frowns down at it for a few moments before she sweeps all the towels to the floor and pulls the blanket up to the disheveled pillows.

“I’ll get new sheets after,” Malia answers with a wave of her hand before Lydia can even bring the topic up. With a nod, Lydia gratefully collapses the rest of the way down, feet hanging over the edge of the mattress, and sighs contently. After spending so much of the day standing up, being horizontal, even if it’s ultimately only for a little while, feels absolutely amazing.

“Do you want a pillow?” she asks, raising her head and glancing down at where Malia has dropped to her knees at the foot of the bed. Malia shakes her head and takes one of Lydia’s feet in her hands.

“I’m fine.” She presses both of her thumbs firmly into Lydia’s arch, and Lydia groans as she drops her head back.

Aside from the sounds from poolside drifting through the open balcony door and the occasional content sighs Lydia doesn’t bother trying to hold back, the room falls quiet for quite some time. Malia works thoroughly and carefully, doesn’t push too hard in the sensitive spots or skimp out on the areas that need the extra pressure. When she’s finished with one foot, she gently pulls Lydia a little closer, and Lydia lets her foot dangle over Malia’s shoulder, carefully brushes her heel back and forth over the bare skin of Malia’s back.

“Thank you,” Lydia says when Malia starts to wind down with her second foot. Malia makes a quiet sound of acknowledgement before she gently pulls Lydia’s other foot over her shoulder and slides her hands up the backs of Lydia’s calves.

“How much longer until you have to go downstairs?” she asks, turning her head to press a kiss to the inside of Lydia’s knee. Lydia cranes her head to look back at the clock on the nightstand beside the bed.

“About an hour.” She slides forward a little further, until the insides of her knees are resting firmly on Malia’s shoulders, and her heels are brushing against the middle of Malia’s back. She props herself up on her elbows so that she can see the glint in Malia’s eyes, a glint she knows all too well. “You look like you have an idea.”

Malia shrugs and curls her fingers into the hem of Lydia’s pencil skirt. “Maybe. Will you have enough time to get ready again?”

Lydia laughs and slides her legs apart as far as the restrictive fabric of her skirt will permit. “I think you greatly underestimate how good you are at certain things.”

Malia grins up at her, all sharp teeth (the human kind, thankfully), and when the sun catches her eyes, they flash bright electric blue. In one swift movement, she pushes Lydia’s skirt up to her waist. She isn’t rough with it, but it’s definitely going to be rumpled enough that Lydia might have to get creative when it comes to putting herself back together.

But that’s an issue to be dealt with in the near future.

Malia starts pressing a trail of kisses along the inside of her thigh, alternates between firm and gentle, feather-light and near-bruising. When the breeze kicks it up a notch, it brushes along the trail of saliva Malia has left behind, and Lydia shudders. She can’t quite reach Malia’s head, so she settles for anchoring her fingers into the blanket as she lets her legs fall open wider. When Malia’s tongue drags along the seam where her hip meets her thigh, she gasps and digs her heels into Malia’s back.

Malia doesn’t leave her waiting for long. She presses a single kiss to Lydia’s clit through the satin of her underwear before she hooks her fingers into the waistband and momentarily shifts Lydia’s legs off her shoulders so that she can tug them off. Once they’re on the floor, she cages herself in with Lydia’s legs again, pulls her hips down nearly to the edge of the mattress and glances up, eyes as blue as a chip of ice.

“Okay?” Technically, it’s an unnecessary question; if Lydia was anything other than one hundred percent sure, Malia would be able to smell it on her, would be able to hear the off-kilter rhythm of her heart. But she still asks, every single time, and every single time makes Lydia love her just that much more.

“Yes,” Lydia answers, dropping her head back against the mattress and moaning when Malia’s warm breath brushes over where she’s aching for some contact. “Please.”

With that, Malia leans in and flicks the point of her tongue against Lydia’s clit, and Lydia’s back arches off the bed as she twists her fingers in the blanket.

Malia doesn’t rush, doesn’t go too fast or add her fingers into the mix too early, but it’s still only a matter of a few minutes before Lydia’s thighs are quivering, before her breath is coming fast from her lungs. She’s so close that she can practically taste it on her tongue, but she just needs a little more to push her over the edge.

Moments later, like Malia has read her mind (or, more realistically, like she somehow noticed a change in Lydia’s scent and extrapolated from there), she circles her tongue a little faster and slides the tip of her ring finger in beside her index and middle, and Lydia comes with a bitten-off moan, hips pressing up against Malia’s mouth.

Malia gently works her through the aftershocks, licks against her until Lydia is too sensitive for even that light touch. When Malia withdraws her fingers, she carefully licks them clean before she slides Lydia’s legs off her shoulders. They feel boneless, and Lydia lets them thump back against the mattress while she tries to catch her breath.

Once her mind has cleared a little, she tilts her head back and glances at the clock. It might be cutting it a bit close, but she wants to return the favor, once she’s sufficiently recovered.

Before she can bring up the idea, Malia presses a kiss to the inside of her knee and shakes her head.

“Don’t worry about me.” She slides up onto the mattress and cranes over to press a kiss to Lydia’s collarbone. “I can wait.”

“Okay.” Lydia drops her hand to the base of Malia’s spine and smooths her thumb over the warm skin there. Her chest still feels a little tight, and it’s going to take a few moments for her legs to be able to support her weight, so she doesn’t make any effort to move. Instead, she asks, “Do you want to go present my research for me so I can stay here and nap?”

Malia snorts. “Not unless you want to lose tenure.” She cranes down and presses a kiss to Lydia’s cheek before she brushes some of Lydia’s hair away from her face. “But if you let me know what you want for dinner, I can make sure room service is here when you get back.”

Lydia grins and leans up for a lingering kiss, one she can taste herself on.

“Sounds like a deal.”

**Author's Note:**

> as always, I can be found on [tumblr.](http://banshee-cheekbones.tumblr.com/) :)


End file.
